


Karada

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Dark Knight [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, D/s, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6112441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But that’s the point,” Poe had said. “The chains aren’t on your body, they’re on your mind.”</p><p>And Kylo - after some deliberation - had to agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karada

In any situation, any scenario, there was always an element of untruth. No matter what, both Poe and Kylo knew full well that the Darksider could escape almost anything. Short of finding Force-dampening things to really keep him under, and then doing something physically so over-powering that even his strength wouldn’t be a point of failure, there was no way any restraint would work properly. 

“But that’s the point,” Poe had said. “The chains aren’t on your body, they’re on your mind.”  


And Kylo - after some deliberation - had to agree.

The most securely bound he’d felt had been the first time. Poe hadn’t even used a single knot, or loop, or lock. He’d told Kylo to put his hands above his head and hold onto the headboard. There’d been a battle of wills, and Kylo had snapped his way through various excuses and insults and rude comments until Poe had told him _enough_ , and Kylo had grabbed the wooden frame as if _challenging him_ even by his submission. Nothing to keep his hands there, but the request. The words and the potential for _approval_. And the longer his hands stayed up, the heavier his arms felt, the more he was sure it was - 

\- it was -

 _right_.

It was right to keep them up, because Poe wanted it. Even though Poe did things to his body that drove him halfway insane with lust and anguish and love and agony, he’d had to fight to stay as still as he could. Poe had asked him to, and he didn’t want to either prove too weak, or disappoint.

After… oh Maker, after… Poe had been like a madman. Full of so much enthusiasm and praise and gratitude and longing that Kylo had almost exploded in fear. He’d not fully understood what the changing dynamic really meant, but both of them had been hooked. It wasn’t an essential part of their loveplay, it wasn’t as if they couldn’t enjoy more… mainstream activities, too, but when they did break out the other routines, Kylo was always left more than satisfied. 

Sometimes Poe still kept his hands in place with only one palm over his wrists, as he fucked him, or rode him, or fucked his mouth, or let Kylo eat him out. Sometimes it was a word, or a look, and Kylo knew to get into position. (Either like that, face-up and arms lifted; or on all fours with his legs spread and his ass upturned and presented for abuse; or kneeling with his hands facing the sky; or standing and waiting in _respectful_ watchfulness… Poe never seemed to mind which position Kylo adopted, so long as the attitude was right.) 

Occasionally it was heavier duty things. Chains were pretty, but they also were cumbersome, and to get a thread that could cope with his (sometimes very violent) thrashing and still be flexible enough to make nice patterns was difficult. So now they mostly used that when they wanted it to be stark, bold, and simple. Kylo liked the weight of them, but they made it feel more brutal and cruel. That worked on some days, but not on others.

Today, though, it was Poe’s favourite. He’d found fine silky-soft but tensile-strong cords in bright orange. Kylo had objected at first, not wanting to be dressed in _Resistance colours_ , but Poe had told him that he belonged to Poe, and Poe’s colour was orange, and if he wanted to come tonight he would stop complaining about the fashion elements of their bedroom adventures.

Kylo had complained a little longer. He thought it was only right. Complained until Poe clamped on the ballgag and slapped his ass until he nodded that _yes okay orange will do fine thank you Master_. (One of his favourite memories, actually.)

Poe loved the ropes because they were much more _versatile_ , and because he could tie knots over sensitive places, and generally be an asshole with them. Kylo hated the ropes, but that really just meant he loved them, too. (He would deny all knowledge, even to Poe, but Poe knew the truth anyway.) 

The collar had taken some getting used to. It had been stiff leather to begin with, and Kylo had not been sure quite how he _felt_ about it, because it was changing one Master for another. He’d gone through two already (Force, only, but still controllers of his fate and destiny), and he hadn’t known what he’d think of another. The strange pride, but also distaste, a humiliation and a being-cared-for, mingled into one. By now, it was soft and supple, and he arched his neck out to receive it when it was held out for him. The buckle slid into place, and he breathed to the limits of it, enjoying the feel of it, starting to slip under. He let his eyes close as he just focussed on the sensation, and although he was bare from head to toe except for the collar, he didn’t feel exposed at all. Not really.

Not in the ways he didn’t want.

Poe’s hands slid over his frame, and he moved to accommodate every touch. A correction to his spine here, a slight re-alignment of his shoulders there. Kylo bent like a soft tree in a sure breeze, and smiled. Poe liked his body, even if Kylo himself didn’t. He always praised his stark lines; muscle, bone, arch, curve, dip. He praised his alabaster skin, too, though he was beginning to get tan lines where clothing left him open to the world again. The first time Kylo caught the sun on his nose, he’d whined for a week. No amount of Bacta could cover over the shame of a radioactive schnoz. He was told to lift his hands, and he did that, putting them into his hair for good measure, so he could have something to hold onto. 

Poe’s fingers hooked the leather belt - interspersed with heavy O-rings - down his back. It hung from the collar and traced over his spine and ended just below his tailbone. It wasn’t necessary, but Poe liked the certainty of it when he was feeling most artistic. The real work was almost always on the front of his chest, where they could both appreciate it. 

The fire-orange cord looped through the ring at the front and centre of his collar, and down in twin lines like a dual exhaust streak across his chest. Down, and then a knot just nestled amongst the curls between his legs. Kylo tried to keep his cock from getting too hard, too soon, so it wouldn’t disrupt Poe’s artistry, but it often had a mind of its own. It tried to rise to greet him, and he fought it as hard as he could (no pun intended). The ropes parted again, and were reunited in another knot that sat just behind his balls. Poe knew how to situate it so it would press against that sensitive spot if he moved too much, and Kylo both loved and hated him for it. Little glances, checking to see things were okay, and Kylo nodded.

He’d long since gotten used to that. Poe might want to set the pace and the tone, but his caring streak never left the room. Even if Kylo needed pushing hard and fast, he could always see Poe was making sure it wasn’t _too_ fast. He liked that. He didn’t feel like he was being babied, when Poe did it. He felt more like he was being kept safe. Loved. 

The rope went back between his legs, and shored off against the O-ring at the base of his spine. Fingers checked for tension, and for blood-flow, but it was all okay. Kylo didn’t lie about it since the time he did pretend it was all okay and it wasn’t, and Poe got really annoyed with himself and they didn’t play again for a week until they sorted it out. Kylo hated that he had to sometimes say _no_ , now, but Poe refused to engage with him if he wouldn’t ever speak out for himself. Apparently _no I think my finger is going blue_ was essential. Finding out what was and wasn’t had taken a lot of trial and effort, but they were getting there.

The ropes slid up over his back, and then laced out through the rings. Out, and over his sturdy waist, and crossed over to the front of his stomach. The left string went over his navel and looped around the furthermost. The right did the same, and the two lines were pulled out over his torso in a diamond shape. Simple, but effective. Beautiful, but tense. Firm, but supportive. Kylo felt his mind go deeper under as the ropes slid across his skin, and he moaned softly. He’d never been a very vocal lover, even though Poe was. Poe had been worried by it at first, but now it was more like a challenge to make him break past that seal of silence. And they _both_ loved a challenge.

Up went the ropes to the next ring, and then back to the front to pull the dual lines criss-crossing over his torso. Up, and up, and up until he looked like a [work of art](http://vegasseven.com/files/2015/02/hishi_karada_body_diamond_by_marshall_bradford_WEB.jpg). Pale skin flushing lightly pink around tight orange; the arcs situated to accent the natural shape of his torso; the fine places he went in and out. It left his nipples proud and wanting, and it made it harder for him to flex and twist. The final few threads were secured off, and Kylo smiled. Poe walked him to the mirror, knowing Kylo hated it, and loved it. Hated to see himself, but loved to see the work Poe had done on him. He flushed even more to see Poe’s eyes so dark and hungry, and when he reached around from behind to flick a finger and thumb over a darkening nipple. He gasped, and was rewarded for his noise by a hand that tugged on the rope between his legs, pressing close to his hole and scraping lightly at his cock. 

“Do you think you’ve been good enough?” Poe asked, his voice trilling with amusement.  


Kylo nodded. He had. He’d not resisted at all. He awkwardly met Poe’s eyes, and saw the hunger in them. A shy smile, and they both nodded. He had been good.

And that meant Poe would throw him - tied as he was - down onto the bed. His lightly-bound cock would rub into the sheets as a finger slipped the ropes between his legs wide enough to open him up, and Poe would fuck him through the karada harness. He’d use it for leverage, gripping it, holding him tighter, as he took his pleasure before anything else. Kylo would get the twin sensations of restriction and fullness, and then - if he was _really good_ \- Poe would jerk him off, too.

Kylo grinned. He was going to be **so damn good** to fuck that Poe would _have to_ reward him. 


End file.
